The Sky-Elves
by Abbyforth
Summary: It could have been the chocolate... Or the lack of sleep... But now Fiona West and her best friend Zoey Derringer have two battered Elves on their hands. Warning: Contains siblings, Blind Guardian, coffee, temporal disturbances, cousins, sandwiches, crazy driving, and mind-melds of the non-Vulcan variety. Collaboration with GoldenEagle13
1. The Elves of the Sky

**Fiona's POV**

It was a cloudy day near Midvale, New Hampshire… Which is a normal occurrence, but that is not important to the tale I am about to relate.

I had just arrived at my friend Zoey Derringer's house and was prepared to do the usual things with her and her siblings – staying up late and watching the Hobbit in particular.

I grabbed the Hobbit DVD, the extended edition of course, while Zoey put some cookies her older sister Erin had made just for us on a plate. I was so excited to watch the extended footage, because I was hoping to see more than a ten second glimpse of my favorite elf in all of Arda: Thranduil the Elvenking of Mirkwood.

"Are you ready to start?" I asked my friend, as we settled on the Derringer's comfy couch.

"Wah?" Zoey had spaced again!

Instead of answering her, I pressed the play button on the DVD player. Right as my finger pressed the button, there was a mighty splintering sound in the backyard, then silence.

"What was that?" I gasped, quickly turning off the DVD player.

"Should we go look? We could send Sean out for us…" Zoey thought aloud.

"Great idea! SEAN! We need you!"

Zoey's younger brother rushed into the room and said exasperatedly, "This better be good, I was playing Battle for Middle Earth with Abe and he'll probably call in a panic wondering where I am."

"We need you to go see what that crash was outside. It sounded pretty cosmic." I answered.

"OK, but if Abe calls, you're going to tell him what happened."

We put on our coats, and led Sean out to the backyard where we thought the crash had happened.

The first thing I saw was a mound of splintered wood, and the first thing I heard was the groaning of whoever had gotten trapped underneath it. I hoped we could uncover whoever it was and help them get back to where they lived. I had no idea that this would be nearly impossible to accomplish, or that there would come a time when a choice needed to be made regarding the existence of another world and the people who we dubbed The Elves of the Sky.

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**Abbyforth: Hey guys! This was written with my good friend GoldenEagle13. It started out as a crack-fic, but - as you will see - it developed a life of its own. Feedback is appreciated!**

**GoldenEagle13: Flames will be used to make s'mores ;D**


	2. And What We Did About Them

**Disclaimer: Abbyforth and GoldenEagle13 own nothing (although GoldenEagle13 has a few excellent swords, and Abbyforth is currently searching for the perfect One Ring)**

**Zoey's POV**

Sean, Fiona and I stared in shock at the tangle of tree branches and roots that lay twisted in a heap in the middle of the back yard. Then we heard the moaning again.

"Somebody's in there!" Fiona gasped.

"I can call the police," Sean offered quickly.

"But—but—where did it—they—that—come from?" My mind was having difficulty processing what lay before me. Then I realized what Sean had said. "No! No police. Mom and Dad aren't home, remember?" They had gone out with Mikey, leaving us three middle kids home alone.

"Anyway, I think an ambulance would be more appropriate," Fiona added.

"So… shall I call an ambulance?" Sean looked slightly confused.

I wanted my older sister Erin, but she was at my cousin Helen's house, and not expected back for some time. "Let's try and see what we're dealing with." I stepped forward, Sean and Fiona right behind me. A loud moan stopped us short, and we exchanged glances.

"Maybe we should call the police, Zoey," Fiona said worriedly.

"But…"

"Hang on. Stay right there, girls." Sean dashed into the house. Fiona and I looked at each other, then the pile of moaning tree limbs. Soon Sean reappeared, his licensed replica Strider sword strapped to his waist. He pulled it out of the scabbard as he drew near. "Okay, now we're ready."

Normally I would have laughed out loud, or at least rolled my eyes, but seeing my brother with sword in hand was reassuring. I felt I could face whatever was buried in that woodpile, as long as Sean was there. He took the lead as we resumed our advance, Fiona's arms twined with mine.

When we drew close to the heap in the middle of our yard, Sean began to carefully pull away branches and clods of dirt, occasionally using his sword to leverage a larger piece of trunk or root. But it was Fiona who saw him first.

"LOOK!" she gasped, and pointed to the spot where Sean had just lifted a lump of earth from.

A young man's face, smudged with dirt and pale as ivory, stared out at us from beneath the twisted roots, sea-green eyes cloudy with pain. His hair was falling across his lips and forehead, little pieces of leaves and bark tangled in the frost-gold strands. "_Melda_," he whispered. "_Calmanya quelle_…" His eyes rolled back in his head.

Fiona panicked. "He died!" she wailed, running to where the young man lay and starting to tug at the branches that snared him. Sean sheathed his sword and began to help her.

I edged forward, uneasy. "Guys, be careful, you don't want to crush him more…"

"Right—of course." Fiona, nibbling nervously at her bottom lip, carefully put her fingers on the unconscious fellow's neck, just below the jaw. "Ahhh… he's not dead." Relief was evident on her face.

"What did he say?" I'd been farthest from the pile of wood, and hadn't been able to make out the young man's words. "Right before he fainted, he said something. In Spanish or whatever."

Sean looked at me like I was completely insane. "Zoey, are you serious? That was Elvish, not Spanish!" And he leaned forward to pull one of the larger branches off of the young man's legs.

Now I did roll my eyes. "Sean, I know you're crazy about Lord of the Rings, but this guy is not…"

Fiona, intently checking for broken bones and other injuries, brushed back the hair from the poor fellow's face to check his skull. Abruptly she snatched her hand away, gasping. "Uh… you were saying?" Her attentions had revealed a delicately pointed ear.

I shut my mouth with a snap. "Okay. Fine. Let's just suspend reality here…" Personally, I was more prepared to deal with visiting space aliens than one of Middle-Earth's Elder Children.

"Help me get this off of him." Sean was having trouble with the tangle of roots draped over the young man's—elf's—waist.

"Sure." I wrapped my fingers around one of the thicker shoots, and together we heaved mightily. "Pull him out, Fiona," I grunted, brisk from tension.

Fiona eyed the young man—elf!—critically. "He's awfully tall, Zoey… and well-built…"

"PULL HIM OUT!" Sean roared, his face purple with the strain of lifting the heavy stump.

(None of us actually stopped to think about what was happening. I mean, if an Elf crashed down in your back yard amid a heap of tree parts, wouldn't you be asking yourself some serious questions? But here we were, initiating a rescue like it was totally normal.)

Soon, we had the Elf out of the wood pile and lying stretched out on the ground. Having picked up a few basic nursing skills from Erin, I had taken over the triage department, and we quickly determined that our odd visitor had come through relatively unscathed. There were angry bruises on his arms and the left side of his ribcage (Sean had checked that for us), and scratches everywhere, but we figured he'd be okay. With this established, we sat for a moment, all of us kneeling beside the still-unconscious Elf, and collectively took a steadying breath. Fiona was just commenting that he'd probably fainted more from shock than anything else, and that we'd better take him inside, when another faint moan froze us all in place. As one we turned and stared fearfully at the woodpile.

"Aauughhhh…"

"There's somebody else in there!" I squealed, terrified.

Sean, with admirable calm, once more took charge of the situation. "Fiona, stay with this guy." Fiona laid one hand protectively on the elf's shoulder. Sean nodded approvingly and continued. "Me and Zoey will go see who else has decided to land in our back yard."

Again we approached the woodpile, my heart sputtering in an over-taxed double-time. We'd torn the heap apart getting the one guy out, so whatever was left in there was buried pretty deep. The only thing I could think of that could handle that kind of weight was a troll or a dragon. Not that I really wanted to meet either of those.

I picked up one of the longer, sturdier tree limbs and began to pry apart what remained of the jumble of dead tree, Sean working steadily beside me. The moans grew more distinct, and we forged ahead, encouraged. I had decided to stop worrying about dragons and other terrors. What was the point? And anyway, I was beginning to suspect that this was all some sort of crazy dream my tired brain had cooked up, the kind my cousin Helen would call an acid trip. After all, Fiona and I had stayed up until four last night after eating way too much chocolate.

We found him on the other side of the pile, lying spread-eagled under a layer of smashed bark, his short, fiery hair tangled about his head in a wild corona. His eyes were closed, and a gash on his forehead oozed a distressing amount of dark red blood. The right leg rested with the knee bent at an odd angle. My heart clenched pityingly within my chest.

"I don't know if we can move this one," Sean said doubtfully. "Look at his leg."

"We can't just leave him lying here in the back yard." I flicked my fingers thoughtfully through the hair on the back of my neck. "He's worse off than the other guy."

"Yes," my brother conceded, "But what—"

"Zoey? Sean?" It was Fiona, her voice high with nerves. "I think this guy's waking up! Get back here, please?"

I looked at Sean, my moss-green eyes holding firmly in the grey-blue storm of his gaze. "You take his shoulders. I'll grab his feet, okay?"

He nodded. "Be careful with his leg. You might want to take his waist instead."

"Sure, whatever. Let's just get them both inside."

"Hurry!" Fiona definitely sounded anxious now. "He's moving around!"

"Here." Sean gently brushed me aside and slid one arm under the man's knees and the other under the man's back. "You get his shoulders."

I hooked my arms under the man's underarms, and Sean and I lifted as one. The man's head lolled against my shoulder, the wound on his forehead leaving a sticky line of warm blood on my neck. I swallowed hard. We slowly made our way back to Fiona, who chose that moment to shriek:

"Guys! HE'S GETTING UP!"

"Oh, gears. Just perfect," I muttered, and Sean and I picked up the pace, the man in our arms jostled by our haste. We rounded the woodpile to see Fiona staring, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, at the pale-haired Elf who now towered almost a full head above her. As we gawked, the slender figure swayed unsteadily and reached for her. _"Im hiril…"_

Fiona, stunned speechless, lifted her arms to catch him, and he sagged gratefully against her. The three of us mere mortals exchanged bemused glances, and then, finally, we supported and carried our strange guests into the house.

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**Abbyforth: Hey everyone! We know the first chapter was short, so we decided to put up Chapter Two so you guys could get a better idea of how it's going to go.**

**GoldenEagle13: As always, reviews feed the gryphons, so don't forget to tell us what you think. We use flames to broil the hamburgers. Elvish comes from tedious hours of internet research :P So it might not be up to par.**


	3. Blood, Hands, and Mind

**Zoey's POV**

We lay the red-haired man down on the sunroom couch, and Fiona took her elven charge to the dining room table. "Here, sit down," she offered, pulling out a chair for him, anxious to please. He sat down gratefully, set his elbows on the table, and placed his head in his hands, his long hair spilling about his shoulders like sunlight on a frozen waterfall.

I looked down at the man on the couch. Oops, not a man—his shoulder-length hair had fallen away from his noble face, betraying the curve of a pointed ear. Great. I now had two random elves in my house; one with serious injuries, both without identities. And, from what I could tell, neither knew English. Yup, acid trip.

Elf or man, blood was blood, and I had to clean it up and stop it from leaving my poor red-head's body. Sean was hovering indecisively between Fiona and I and the elves we were looking after, his expression a mixture of concern and doubt. I smiled at him. "Go get me a warm, soapy wash-cloth?"

"Sure." And he was gone.

I ran my hands over the red-haired elf's forehead, carefully avoiding the blood, searching for fractures. Satisfied that it was only a flesh wound, I set about checking the arm closest to me, the left arm, feeling for broken bones. All seemed well, so I turned my attentions to his right arm. It was hidden, nestled between his right side and the couch cushions. Gently I pried it out, only to gasp in horror and drop it like I'd been burned.

He didn't _have_ a right hand.

_My_ hands were at my mouth, holding back a scream that was trying most desperately to escape. And then Sean was at my elbow, the washcloth dripping as he held it out to me. "You okay?"

"Look—at—his—hand—" I choked.

Sean's eyes fairly popped out of his head, but he didn't lose his wits. "You mean lack of it," he quipped.

"Ha ha," I managed weakly, accepting the washcloth with shaking hands.

(Do you realize how much we use hands? What a huge part of our lives they are? I want you to imagine for a minute what it would be like to lose your dominant hand. Left or right, whichever it is, I don't care. Just chew on that for a second. Okay, we can continue.)

My bottom lip clamped between my teeth, I cleaned away the dirt and blood from the unconscious elf's face. With the blood cleared away from his forehead, you could see what a fine face my red-head had. The bones seemed both delicate and powerful, the curves of jaw and cheekbone smooth, but with the hardness of chiseled marble. He had a straight, elegant nose, and his long lashes were the same fiery color as his hair. His eyes did not open.

I moved to his arms, starting with the left; for these, too, were streaked with dirt and myriad scratches. He had good, strong arms, and while his left hand was much bigger than my own, the fingers were long and slender. Again and again, as I worked my way down his right arm, I caught myself staring at the scarred stump just below where his right wrist should have been, and each time I would flinch and look away, ashamed of my morbid curiosity. I was especially gentle when washing the dirt from the painfully knotted tissue.

Now there was only his leg to take care of, but this was out of my range of skill and knowledge. Momentarily stymied, I looked over to where Fiona sat with her youthful elf lord. For that's what he must be; despite his obvious lack of maturity, he had a definite regal bearing, and his eyes, though dark with confusion and pain, were proud and intelligent beneath his noble brow. Fiona had got him cleaned up nicely, and now they were contemplating each other from across the dining room table. The elf lord's expression was somewhat guarded, but his defenses were quickly melting under Fiona's beaming gaze and gentle chatter. A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. Fiona was so outgoing.

The large gash on the red-haired elf's forehead was beginning to ooze again. I would have to wrap it tightly with something large and absorbent. Leaving my patient on the couch, I went to get a roll of gauze from the bathroom.

I passed through the kitchen, where Sean stood quietly, eating a sandwich and watching the action. "Need anything?" he offered, lifting his eyebrows earnestly.

"Do you know anything about setting broken knees?" I could feel the utter impossibility of the situation finally sinking in.

"Nope. But I can boil some water and make a few more sandwiches."

"Perfect."

I went into the bathroom and gasped when I caught sight of myself in the mirror. The thick line of blood had dried to a sticky dark slash. It looked horrifying if you were unprepared for it. I washed it off with hot water and the hand towel.

As I shifted through the contents of the bathroom drawers and cupboards, my mind was with the elves recuperating in the back rooms of my house. Where were they from? I began to think of all the stories I knew that featured elves—tall, noble elves, not faeries or sprites. All that came to mind was Tolkien's books. After a while, I realized that there were other tales with elves in them—Paolini's _Inheritance Cycle_, for example, and some Nordic folklore—but Tolkien's works had been on my mind since we had pulled the first elf out of the rubble. Being a fantasy sort of person, I never considered that these strangers might actually be natives of this Space and Time. Which was fine, because they weren't.

Having finally gained possession of a decent roll of gauze and some antibiotic ointment, I headed back to the sunroom, steering clear of the kitchen so as not to interfere with Sean's lunch-making. Instead I went through the dining room, where Fiona and her elf lord were still engaged in a one-sided conversation. As I was later told, she was hoping to somehow give him a crash-course on English by talking about anything and everything, in the hope that he would understand something. A good plan, really, but it proved to be unnecessary.

For—as I passed them—the fair-haired elf suddenly reached out and took Fiona by the hand, his gaze locking with hers. She immediately fell silent, and I stopped abruptly, shocked as she was. The elf's eyes began to flick back and forth eagerly, as if he were scanning the pages of a book, and Fiona's lips moved slightly, as if she were reading that book to him. I stood by helplessly, afraid of what was happening and afraid to stop it. Finally, the elf dropped his gaze, and Fiona sat back, surprise written all over her face. I rushed over to her, vaguely aware of Sean's presence at the table as well. "Are you okay? What did he do?"

Fiona shook her head, her expression unreadable. "I don't know—but I'm okay." She grimaced in puzzlement. "It was like—like he was standing inside my head, looking at my memories; the stuff I know, what I've thought or felt…"

Concern filled me. She looked so stunned… "Did it hurt?"

She shook her head again. "No."

"That—is as it should be."

Fiona, Sean and I turned slowly to face the elf on the other side of the table. "What?"

His expression was that of complete confidence. "It is not supposed to bring pain. And I did not look at those things that you hold in secrecy."

We three mortals exchanged glances.

"I had to—look inside of you—to learn your language. I did not read the secrets of your mind." The fair elf's beautiful face was earnest, with an almost child-like sincerity.

At that moment, the telephone rang, and the three of us flinched. The elf sat up alertly, elegant even in his surprise. Sean, on reflex, answered the phone.

"Hello? Oh, hi, Abe." Sean twisted the phone cord around his pointer finger. "Yeah, sorry. Um, something came up…" His eyes wandered over the scene, and he made a wry face. "Oh well, it's okay. My guys can get slaughtered, I have get off now anyway, we have—visitors."

That brought me back into the moment. "If you're sure you're okay, Fiona, the other guy is bleeding…"

She nodded reassuringly, and I went to tend my elf.

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**Abbyforth: Hey guys! I hope you enjoy this next chapter, where the craziness starts for real! Constructive criticism feeds my muse so please review the very first Thor/Silmarillion crossover in existence on this site!**

**GoldenEagle13: And don't worry, we'll get back to Fiona's POV in the next chapter ;D**


	4. The Woodland King

**Fiona's POV**

I was still in shock from the events of the last few minutes. It seemed like this whole situation was finally catching up to me. Not to mention the fact that we were playing the host to elves which were not supposed to even exist. No way was I going to try to wrap my head around that.

I decided to accept the situation for what it was, and turned my eyes back to the elf lord who was kicking back after casually flipping through my memories like a phone book. He knew everything about me, but I still knew nothing about him.

"You—would you like some coffee?" Yech, where did that come from?

The elf tilted his head in endearing puzzlement. "Coffee? I do not know of this 'coffee' you speak of."

Mortified, I rushed to explain. "It's a hot drink, kind of like… like…"

"Tea?"

"Um, yes." I smiled apologetically. "But a lot stronger."

He ran a hand thoughtfully through his hair. "I think such strength would be welcome."

I wandered into the kitchen to grind the coffee beans, and saw that Sean had made chicken salad sandwiches for every conscious person in the house (Zoey's elf was still unresponsive on the back couch). "Thanks for making the sandwiches, Sean," I said gratefully as I swiped one from off the counter and took a big bite. Mmm, he'd put pickles on this one.

"No problem. I needed to do something so I didn't go crazy."

I completely agreed with that. I was glad of his company and Zoey's. If I'd had to face this alone, I _would _have gone crazy.

I poured the coffee beans into the grinder. Hoping to even the 'who-knew-what' score between me and my mysterious elf lord, I called over my shoulder, "So, what's your name?"

He looked up and pushed the hair away from his eyes. "I am Thranduil, prince of Doriath."

I had stopped listening at 'Thranduil', because my brain had completely shut down at the sound of that name. I was stunned into silence. The King of Mirkwood, the elf-lord I had been fangirling over for ages of Arda, was in the same room with me. And I had offered him coffee like he was some sort of distant acquaintance! What did one do when first meeting an Elven King? Were there rules for conversing with Elvish royalty? This whole situation was totally unbelievable, and this was the icing on the cake. I couldn't handle this… I pushed such thoughts from my mind and focused on the here-and-now. I would have to suspend my disbelief, probably indefinitely.

The grinder whirred and growled as it turned the beans into a fine powder. Something told me it would be wise to put the fact that this was a fictitious character out of my mind. If we told him all about Tolkien's books, what would he think? More importantly, how would it affect his future?

And what about the other elf? A thought squirmed in the back of my mind. Something to do with that flaming, red hair…

On impulse I let the coffee drip into a travel cup instead of a mug. I had a feeling we would be leaving sooner rather than later. Lorraine, Sam, and Mikey would be home soon, and I really didn't want to have to explain this. We needed a quiet place to plan our next move. I stirred hazelnut creamer into the coffee and frowned thoughtfully. It would be a good idea to have Erin look at the red-head's leg. Having a nurse in the family certainly came in handy.

I set the coffee and a sandwich in front of Thranduil. Thranduil… Now that I knew who he was, I could barely look at his face. This was the ruler of Mirkwood, someone thousands of years older than me, an elf who had accomplished great feats in Middle-Earth. However, he didn't seem bothered by the fact that I wasn't bowing and scraping. Instead, he seemed pleased as I smiled and sat back down across from him with no fanfare whatsoever.

"Thank you, _im hiril_." He smiled winningly, and took a sip of coffee. I giggled as he made a surprised face. "This is very—good." He sipped again. "I find it pleasant that you have not altered your mannerisms towards me, even though you now know who I am. You see, so many maidens are attracted to the idea of royalty. It can be hard to judge their intentions." He rubbed his eyes, and—much to my surprise—shot me a swift wink, so quick I almost missed it. "But you seem genuine."

He was so very human, not some unreachable, ethereal being, and he nearly knocked my socks off. "But surely you enjoy the privileges of your position?"

Thranduil gave me an odd glance, seeming both amused and ironic. "As king, my father has very little time to give to me. He is widowed, and so I am mostly on my own, running wild through the woods of Doriath. I am headstrong and free-spirited, and so the weight of the crown will be heavy indeed when at last it rests on my brow. Do you still think me privileged?"

The phone rang again. Thranduil raised his silvery eyebrows. "What is that odd-sounding device?"

"A phone," I replied, watching as Sean picked up the receiver. "It lets you talk to people who are far away."

"Like a Palantir?"

"Sort of."

Sean hung up the phone, his face pale. "Guys, everything just blew. Mom and Dad are on their way home."

Zoey had been quiet all this time, but now she popped up out of the sunroom with a stricken expression. "We have to get out of here! Mom and Dad can't come home and see—see—THIS!" With one gesture, she incorporated Thranduil, the red-head, the muddy floor, and the blood spatters into one insane package.

I stood. "But where will we go?"

"It's obvious." Sean was going through the kitchen, unplugging appliances and putting the sandwiches in baggies. "Helen's house."

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**Abbyforth: Hey guys! So sorry that it's been two-and-a-half weeks since we last updated. GoldenEagle13 and I just got back from an adventure worthy of the tales of old. But we will try to keep a better schedule from now on.**

**GoldenEagle13: It was all very 'Of the Return of the Noldor', in case you were wondering. So yeah, please read and review! :3 Flames will help Annatar forge his twenty rings, so we can rule Middle-Earth. Mwahahaha!**


	5. Departure

**Zoey's POV**

We stood outside on the concrete driveway, watching as Fiona unlocked her pick-up and opened the side-doors. Cautiously, I slid my gaze sideways, away from the vehicle and towards the two elves next to me: the tall, blonde one standing with my still-unconscious red-head cradled easily in his arms. Fiona had told me the fair one was Thranduil, and I was having a hard time adjusting to that fact.

And of course, I wanted to keep an eye on my elven charge.

We still didn't know who he was. He had not woken all the time I had attended to him, even when I had wrapped his head wound with soft, white gauze. Nor did Thranduil have any idea as to who he might be.

"But he is high-born," the lordly elf had said with grand assurance. "Look at his face. His eyes have seen the Light of the Trees."

I wouldn't know anything about that. Like I said, he hadn't opened them yet.

And so here we were, making good our escape before Mom and Dad returned and saw the mess we were in. I shrugged, adjusting the small backpack I used for a purse, before climbing up into the back seat; and Thranduil—Thranduil!—laid the red-head down across the seat so that his head rested in my lap. I brushed the fiery locks away from his closed eyes.

Fiona slid into the driver's seat. Sean hopped in beside her and, looking to Thranduil, patted the seat next to him. "You can sit here, sir."

The elf had a wary expression on his face. "It is—small…"

My laughter floated out from the back seat. Fiona's pick-up was a GMC Sierra—when you think of a large truck, that's the one that comes to mind. I had gone with her to pick it out, and we had chosen it partially because of its spacious interior.

The Patriot Blue paint job hadn't hurt its chances, either.

But I understood Thranduil's anxiety. This was a person used to open spaces between lofty trees, not the inside of a pick-up cab. "Why don't you and Sean ride in the bed?"

Then there was a bit of confusion where Sean and Fiona had to explain what exactly we meant by 'bed', and then Sean objected to the idea, on the grounds that the Midvale cops would pull us over within five minutes, and then where would we be?

Finally we had everyone settled. Sean and Thranduil did end up in the bed, because—try as he might—the poor fellow could not bring himself to sit inside the truck.

As we bounced up the gravel drive, I turned around to get one last glimpse of the house before it vanished into the trees. Then we were turning onto the main road, driving away from home and hearth and the familiarity of normal life.

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**Abbyforth: Hey all, I hope you enjoy this rather short chapter where our band of misfits gets on the road. Any feedback would be awesome!**

**GoldenEagle13: Yep! Reviews feed the dragons and all that jazz! Flames are welcome, I like my bacon crispy ;D**


	6. Firstborn of Seven

**GoldenEagle13: Hey, guys. Since this chapter gets a little dark towards the end, we thought we'd warn you. So...**

**Warnings: Mentions of blood and death.**

**Also, there are recollections of distress and peril, and some (possibly?) disturbing imagery. :( But that's because, y'know, the world can be a dark, ugly place.**

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**Zoey's POV**

As we skimmed along the road leading to inner Midvale, I turned around to check on Sean and Thranduil, sitting in the bed of the pick-up. They both seemed to be lost in thought, silent and still but for their long hair, Sean's golden and Thranduil's ice-pale, whipping about their faces in the stiff wind of our flight.

I shifted around to face forward again, and the red-head stirred at my movement. I looked down, and found myself caught in his pewter gaze. All I could manage to say was, "Oh, you're awake."

He jerked and tried to sit up. "Be careful, be careful!" I cried, and he dropped back into my lap, his expression wild with fierce terror.

"What's going on?" Fiona called from the front.

I tried to smile down at the elf, but the intensity of his glare made me falter. "Uh, he's awake. And kind of… angry."

"Well, try to calm him down. I don't want to get into an accident here!"

"Calm him down?" He was beginning to thrash again. "How?"

"I don't know, sing something!"

As they say, 'music soothes the savage breast'. I had no better ideas, so I closed my eyes and opened my mouth.

_"Come all you young fellows,_

_That handle a gun, _

_Beware of night rambling,_

_At the setting of sun…"_

He stilled, but I didn't open my eyes. I couldn't…

_"And beware of an accident,_

_Which happened of late,_

_To young Molly Bán,_

_And sad was her—"_

I gasped and stopped abruptly as I felt the touch of his hand on my face. Hesitantly, I peered at him through half-shut lids. Suspicion gleamed in his eyes, but his expression was purposeful and intent.

A sudden bolt of white heat struck my mind, and I gasped convulsively. He was in my head, taking out my memories and studying them, laying bare my innermost thoughts and fears. He was watching as I learned to crawl, then walk, then talk—he spent a long time at this part—all the years of home-schooling, family reunions, church, swimming lessons and theater… All my memories of siblings and friends and cousins, and the time I had spent with the one boy I had thought I truly loved… He opened them up and read through them in brilliant jeweled color.

And then the barrier crumbled, and I saw _his_ mind—_running over green fields, climbing trees, chasing brothers through long hallways of flickering candlelight. Mother, gentle and radiant; father, tall and grim and bright with inner fire._

_And suddenly I was standing in the middle of a burning ship, the sword in my right hand red with fire and blood. And then the ocean wind in my hair, followed by long nights of doubt and darkness. The death of my father. Being surrounded by shrieking, grinning shadows. Endless days of terror and weeping with cold rock at my back and iron biting into my wrist. A sweet, clear voice on the wind. Beneath one hand, the feel of feathers; the other an aching void. Learning to fight with my left—burning with pain and anger and hate—_

I shrieked and recoiled, body and mind, and the touch of his hand and soul left me. I shuddered and stared at him in horror. His dark grey eyes were wide with surprise, and he seemed ashamed as he slid his gaze away from mine.

I became aware of Fiona's voice. She was calling my name over and over. Distantly, I registered that she sounded completely panicked, and I decided to see if she was all right.

"Are you okay, Fiona?"

"Am I okay? Am _I_ okay?" She had pulled the truck over to the side of the road, and had turned all the way around in her seat. "You were growling and moaning and pounding on the window—you sounded like a feral dog had taken over your body."

I glanced down at the elf and flinched. "That's not too far from the truth. Fiona—" I swallowed against the bile that was rising in my throat—"Meet Maedhros Feanorian."

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**Abbyforth: Since the last chapter was so short, we're uploading two in one day. Don't expect this to be a regular thing.**

**GoldenEagle13: Aw, hey again! Toldja it was going to be a little dark :( I hope it was okay. Reviews are welcome, they help us know what we're doing! :3**


	7. Awkward Explanations

**Disclaimer: Neither of these crazy people own anything recognizable in here.**

**GoldenEagle13: Hey guys! How have you all been? Shout out to fellow Transformers fan Nevra Black for following us (Sorry I didn't thank you sooner, hun; things have been bananaballs around here)! Fun fact: The Patriot Blue GMC Sierra is a Neutral Cybertronian named Downshift... not that she plays any important role in this story :/**

**Abbyforth: My friend has turned into Darcy Lewis overnight, so if random characters start taking over the author notes, you will know we have officially gone crazy. I would also like to thank the author who followed this story. Please feel free to leave a review, we'd like to know what you think!**

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**Fiona's POV**

My brain was completely and utterly poleaxed: first Thranduil, who I was relatively okay with, but now this crazy Noldo from the Silmarillion! Now I knew why he was so familiar… He was Maedhros Feanorian for crying out loud! What had my friend gotten herself into?

But now was not the time to worry about Zoey, because that would not get us any closer to our goal of arriving at Helen's house. I decided to check on Sean, but most of all Thranduil, because who knew how he would react to having a Kinslayer in his vicinity, collected and calm elf or not.

I got out of the truck, leaving the door open behind me, and walked around to the bed. I'd just opened my mouth to ask Thranduil what he made of all this, when Zoey darted out of the truck and began throwing up violently in a bush on the side of the road. I immediately rushed over to see what I could do.

"Are you okay?" I gasped, realizing that my voice sounded more than slightly hysterical. By this time, she was on her hands and knees, her only reply dry retching. I pulled the hair away from her face and helped her to her feet. "What happened?"

"Ugh… why'd it have to be me…" She looked like she was going to vomit again.

"Zoey… Zoey! Snap out of it!"

"Thranduil said it wouldn't—_huk_…" Her breathing was deep and ragged. "But when _he_… I can't explain…"

"You have to get back in the truck now. Okay?" I asked gently. "Do your 'can't explain'-ing on the way. We have to get to Helen's house." I could see Maedhros peeking out of the back seat. Thranduil and Sean watched from the bed, their worried faces a reflection of each other. "Okay?"

She gagged. "_Urk_—"

"C'mon, we'll be on the freeway. You can make it for five more minutes, you can." I half-dragged, half-carried her over to the Sierra. "That guy seems to be feeling just fine, so why don't you ride in the front?"

She nodded limply, and I helped her clamber in before slamming the back door in Maedhros's face. As I went around the bed, Sean grabbed my shoulder. "Is she car-sick?"

I didn't stop. "Uh, sort of."

"What do you mean, 'sort of'?" he demanded as his hand slid off my shoulder.

"It means that there were other factors involved, and I'll tell you later!" This time, the door I slammed was mine.

As we made our way onto the freeway from Midvale, I periodically slid my gaze to the rearview mirror to keep an eye on Maedhros and throw him killing glares. I was pretty sure Zoey would be okay—she was sweaty and shivering, a normal response after someone throws up—but I was still mad. I wasn't too sure what had happened, to be honest, but it was pretty clear that Copper-Top was responsible for my friend's odd behavior. Maybe something to do with the fact that his leg was injured, and the pain had leaked through to Zoey's mind, or something. Then I felt a little bad, because if that was the reason, he must be hurting a lot. Whatever, he still didn't have the right to be an idiot and try to mind-meld in that condition.

The elf in question was surprisingly quiet, his eyes flickering restlessly from window to window as if unable to settle anywhere—but he never looked toward the front seat.

My emotions and Zoey's trembles were mostly under control by the time we arrived in Warmouth and pulled up in front of Helen's house. Erin's car was alone in the driveway, its white paint like a beacon in the bright sun. It would just be Helen and Erin in the house.

I got out and went to the bed, where Sean and Thranduil sat waiting expectantly. "I'm going to go to the door first. You guys stay here and keep everything calm and quiet, okay?"

Thranduil's fathomless green eyes were full of concern. "Is there something amiss, _im hiril_?"

Sean was more direct. "What happened to Zoey? You need to explain—"

"Shhh! Just—" I made a minor freak-out movement with my hands. "We need to get inside, deal with the madness, and form a plan. I'm sure everybody will explain everything as soon as we are hidden from _prying eyes_." I turned abruptly on my heel and strode up the walk to the door, painfully aware of the shocked silence I left in my wake. I would have to work on being less stressed out if I wanted to stay on good terms with Thranduil.

The doorbell sounded a dull, tuneless buzz. I waited impatiently as footsteps sounded in the inner hallway. Finally the doorknob turned, and Erin and Helen's surprised faces greeted me with looks of curiosity. "Hey, Fiona," Erin said with pleasant astonishment. "What are you…"

But I had turned away, following the trajectory of the frown Helen had cast over my shoulder. My eyes widened in panic as I took in the sight of my four passengers standing outside of the truck, Zoey and Maedhros sandwiched in between Sean and Thranduil in an attempt to keep both from keeling over.

"What's going on…" I looked back at Erin, and her tone and expression told me plainly that she was not pleased.

"Uh, yeah, that—them." I gave her a nervous, tilting smile.

Erin's expression became one of resolve. "You'd better come in; you all have some explaining to do."


	8. Aftershock

**Abbyforth: Hey all! I hope you're ready for another exciting chapter! Reviews feed the muses that are stuck in our heads... Just kidding, we aren't that crazy.**

**GoldenEagle13: Much love and thanks and fairy bread to Raurenkili for her wonderful reviews on every chapter :3 We appreciate them, you can be sure.  
Also, we will be trying to update every weekend(ish), so stay tuned. The next chapter's a doozy 8D**

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**Zoey's POV**

As far as sisters go, Erin and I are really, _really _close. We're the type that contrast and complement each other—she's quiet, I'm loud; I'm the crazy one, and she's the steadfast moral compass. So on the rare occasions when we do fight, it's usually Erin mad at me for doing something really, _really _stupid.

Like now. We stood facing each other, our arms crossed, in the middle of my Aunt Lela's kitchen, the soft murmur of the television news broadcast in the background.

"So you're telling me that you didn't call the police, and you didn't call Mom and Dad; that instead, you just decided to load two complete strangers into Fiona's pickup and drive them down here." Crimeny, but I hate it when Erin's mad at me.

I leaned back against the refrigerator and tried to look competent. "That's about the shape of it." Hah, I'm never good at come-backs.

Erin rubbed her forehead with her palms. "Why do you always have to be so impulsive?"

Maybe it was because I was still really nauseous; maybe it was because Maedhros had been in my head, and the experience hadn't worn off yet. In any case, I got grouchy. "Why is this my fault? Fiona's older than I am; technically, that would make her in charge."

Fiona looked up from where she sat at the table. "Hey, don't pin this on me—I'm just the driver. You were the one calling most of the shots." And she went back to talking with Thranduil.

"Traitor," I growled under my breath.

"Zoey," Erin sighed, "How can you possibly expect me to believe that these people are elves from The Lord of the Rings?"

I pointed in the general direction of the living-room couch, where Maedhros the Guilty lay with his leg carefully supported. "You wanna take a turn inside his head?"

"Stop being so dramatic!"

Sean had stayed out of this conversation, knowing better than to interrupt a sisterly discussion; such a thing would result in his head getting bitten off. Helen, however, had the immunity of cousinhood.

"Okay, so this is what I don't understand," she cut in. "You said these guys touched your hands—"

"Fiona's hand. My face," I corrected.

"And you got to see inside each other's brains," Helen finished.

"Yes."

"How does that even work?"

I put my face in my hands. "I don't know..." My head felt like it had been vacuumed out and a bunch of cobwebs (complete with trapped, wriggling bugs) had been shoved inside to fill the empty space between my ears. That thought made the nausea once more push up against the top of my stomach. I went to sit down at the kitchen table, and put my head in my arms before things started spinning again. I knew Maedhros needed tending to, but I couldn't get my thoughts straight. Couldn't think about what I'd seen there, in his mind…

(Ha. I'll admit it: I had been feeling the first flutters of puppy-crush back on the sun-room couch, when he had been so fragile and helpless. Yes, I do realize that sounds stupid! I know, okay? Maybe you'd be relieved to know that I was no longer having such friendly thoughts. Frankly, I was scared of him—didn't want to be near him, didn't want to look at him. From what I had read of Maedhros in the Silmarillion, I'd known that he was a troubled character. After all, hadn't he had thrown himself off a precipice or something at the end of the _Quenta _bit—?)

The nausea was too much. I ran to the bathroom and dry-heaved into the toilet until I was slick with cold sweat and shaking so hard that it was just a matter of time before I took a header into the bowl. Thank goodness Helen had lent me a ponytail—my hair was pulled safely back into a messy but secure bun.

I had enough sense left to be frustrated. I hated being so pathetic and useless. I had played the weak link most of my life and was generally a burden to everybody whenever the situation took a difficult turn, and this occasion was no different.

I was in the midst of these dark thoughts when the bathroom door creaked. I glanced over to see Erin's generic white socks, planted firmly on the bathroom tile. "Zoey? Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

I nodded loosely. With a ragged sigh, I shoved against the rim of the toilet and wobbled to an upright position. There was clammy moisture at the nape of my neck, at the hollows of my knees and elbows, and in the folds of my eyelids; the shorter bits of hair had slipped from the ponytail and plastered themselves to my neck and forehead. I shivered in my tank top. Erin's soft green eyes were wide and worried as they met mine, and I realized how much my erratic behavior must have scared her—plus I probably looked completely dead.

I attempted a smile and staggered over to the sink. "I think I just need to sleep it off." The hot water felt good on my hands; they were cold and white, the nails lavender, from gripping the toilet seat. Slowly they became pink and warm again, and I felt my attitude towards Maedhros thaw as well. "I meant to ask you… will you look at Maedhros's leg? I think the knee joint is broken."

Erin let the name slide. "I guess so. If he'll let me, anyway."

I grimaced, rinsing off the bubbles and drying my hands on my jeans. "Keep an eye on his hand. Don't let him—" I grabbed my face as if performing a Vulcan mind-meld.

"Don't worry." She put an arm around my shoulder. "Do you want to go lie down?"

I considered my options. I could lay down in Helen's room upstairs, where it was quiet and secluded; but I really didn't want to be alone just then. The sitting room couch was better, but still too far away, in my anxious mind. That left the kitchen table—not the most comfy spot—and the living room loveseat. Which of course was right next to—that guy.

The thought of having to sit at the table again—having to stay awake—made me feel sick all over again. I would have to take my chances with the loveseat… and the guy on the couch.


	9. While You Were Sleeping

**Jane: Why are we doing this again?**

**Darcy: Because it's cool! And GoldenEagle13 called us in as a favor. Hi Eagle!**

**Jane: We're not even in this story! Shut up and let me do the disclaimer, okay? *ahem* Abbyforth and GoldenEagle13 do not own anything from The Silmarillion or Thor.**

**Darcy: But they do have lots of class. Oh yeah, and I was listening to my iPod (which S.H.I.E.L.D. _finally_ gave back to me), and I recommend 'Speed of Sound' by _Coldplay_ as this chapter's theme song.**

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**Fiona's POV**

Now that Sean and Zoey and I had managed to explain things (as best as possible) to Erin and Helen, we had Thranduil to consider. No one had told him about Maedhros yet, and I was debating whether or not we should. Sean had said "No, definitely not!" when I had asked him about it; as for Zoey, she had finally fallen asleep on the loveseat, and—seeing as I didn't want to wake her—I couldn't get her opinion. Sean had given me enough death-glares that I had decided to err to the side of caution and keep my mouth shut.

Erin was at the couch, carefully feeling around the joint of Maedhros's right knee, her expression muted with inner thought. The fire-haired elf watched her closely from beneath drooping eyelids. Occasionally Erin would ask him a question, to which he would reply by either nodding or wincing.

While Helen was pretty much going along with things, Erin had made it clear that she wasn't going to accept the fact that Thranduil and Maedhros were who they said they were, but her gentle sympathy had moved her to take care of the odd red-headed stranger anyway. I sensed that it also had a lot to do with the fact that _Zoey_ had asked her to.

The television was on, and the sound flared briefly as the weatherman came on with a freak storm warning. "We're having a strange convergence of clouds over the Warmouth area, most likely due to a cold air mass from the Norse—I mean, north." There was laughter in the background, and the weather guy smiled sheepishly.

"Looks like we're going to have some thunder," Helen commented. The four of us non-nurse, still-conscious people were sitting at the table, eating sandwiches and feeling generally useless. Being ravenous, I had finished first, so when Erin called from the living room, "I need some help," I got up and went over to see what I could do.

"The knee isn't broken," she explained as I came over, "Just dislocated. I want you," she continued, indicating with her hands as she spoke, "To hold his ankle. I'll grab him under the arms, and on three, we'll pull away from each other. That should pop the joint back into place." She looked up at me. "Okay?"

I glanced at the elf in question. "Did you tell Maedhros what we're going to be doing?"

Maedhros opened his mouth as if to say something; but Erin, who was facing away from him at that moment, cut him off. "His name is _not_ Maedhros. Of course I've already told him. And the five of you are lucky I'm even doing this at all, especially this nameless creep who doesn't even have the decency to tell me what's wrong with my sister!"

She turned away from me and swiped at the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. Caught off guard, I stared at her in surprise, too stunned to say anything; and from the distance came the growl of thunder. While I sat there, frozen in shock, Maedhros reached up to put his hand on her shoulder; it brushed her hair, and she slapped it.

"Erin," I said quietly, "He really is who we say he—"

"Stop. Just stop!" She stood up, glaring down at me through wet eyelashes. "I've had enough of you and Zoey's fantasy-world gibberish! Why can't you both wake up and live in the real world? These two guys are a couple of bums you picked up off the street for all I know. Not an elf. Not a prince. We live in reality, Fiona! Stop trying to tell me," and now she was shouting at the top of her lungs, "That he's MAEDHROS!"

Her outburst left a vacuum, as if all the sound had been sucked out of the room; even the television was silent in a lull between commercials. Zoey must have woken up sometime before, and she stared at her sister with eyes that were both curious and sharply agreeing.

Harsh and loud in the silence, the screech of chair legs grating across the linoleum sounded from the dining room. Thranduil stood up from the table with all the majesty of a towering birch, his expression like a storm on the ocean. When he finally spoke, his voice was dangerously soft and quivered like the ends of his frost-gold hair. "What did you say his name was?"

The thunder boomed again, louder this time, as for a long moment, no one dared to speak in the face of Thranduil's royal fury. A quiet, gravelly voice spoke beneath the echoes of thunder.

"Maedhros." All eyes went to the red-haired elf on the couch. "They said my name is Maedhros; and it is."

"You." Thranduil's teeth were bared in a terrifying snarl. No more was he a king of sunlight and laughter; this was an elf carved from ice and starlight. "Kinslayer," he hissed. "You are a murderer."

Maedhros's eyes closed, and he let his head sink back onto the arm of the couch. There was a visible flash of lightning, and I jumped as the thunder crashed down a second later.

"I knew there was something about you." Thranduil, unmoved by the elements, looked down at his hands in horrified disgust. "And I _touched_ you."

The red-haired elf held up his right arm, the pale scar tissue plain to see on the stump where his wrist would have been. "It has been many years since Angband. You have not been sullied by the filth of Morgoth."

For a moment, it looked like Thranduil was going to leap across the room and strangle Maedhros with his bare hands. Fortunately, the television suddenly blared to life with another breaking weather report.

"We're here live in Warmouth as the weather is taking a sudden, wild turn." The weather guy was cheerful, even though the wind was whipping his parka around like a flag in a gale. "As you can see, this unusual weather front has developed quickly into something much more tangible." He turned to gesture to the cars stalled in the main intersection by the flickering traffic lights, when a thick beam of rainbow-hued light shot down from the sky and deposited two figures in the crossing between Clarkson Highway and Main.

"What just happened?" Sean was the first to ask what we were all thinking.

Helen shushed him. "They're still talking."

But the weatherman wasn't being very informative. "Uh, Dave, are you seeing this?" He looked past the camera to the cameraman. "Did we get that on tape?"

"LOOK!" The voice of Dave the cameraman was muffled, but audible. "They're coming closer!"

As the camera rolled, the two figures—one dark, one fair, both male—strode down the street towards the news team. They appeared to be arguing, capes flapping in the wind as the storm dissipated as quickly as it appeared. Their voices were loud enough to be heard clearly by the filming microphone.

"You've got us lost!"

"I have not!"

"This is not Vanaheim!"

I looked at Erin and smiled ironically. "About fantasy-worlds… You were saying?"

Erin peered at the television in confusion. "It's got to be a hoax."

"On live TV?" Sean retorted.

Erin continued to frown. "Maybe we could go investigate…"

Maedhros spoke again. "Do you think anyone needs a nurse?"

Erin shot him a death glare, until Zoey finally said, "He was only kidding. He knows that was mean. He's sorry."

I stood up from the couch. "If we're going to go check this out, then we'd better go now. Everybody…" I pointed to the door. "Into the Sierra."

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**Abbyforth: Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Our elves battle it out and there are some strange things on the local news...**

**GoldenEagle13: Thanks to everyone who followed, favorited, and reviewed. Shout out to 00Dark-Pheonix00, WitchKing7 and the faithful Raurenkili for their support and excellent reviews :3**


	10. Guardians, Blind and Otherwise

**Maglor: Well met.**

_***Glances about_ warily_***_

**Maglor: Look, I didn't even want to be here, but Eagle asked me to tell you that she's sorry about not putting this up last week like she ought to have done; something about 'final exams' and 'absent author's notes'. She'd tell you herself, but she's too scared of your 'fiery wrath' to come out right now. She chose _me_ because I apparently have a lot of things called 'fanbabes' and thus possess an immunity to any hate mail you might throw.**

_***Crosses arms, tosses hair***_

**Maglor: Oh, and the theme song is 'Noldor' by _Blind Guardian,_ if you're interested. It doesn't belong to either of the authors.**

_***Awkward silence***_

_***Leaves.***_

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**Zoey's POV**

We roared down Clarkson Highway, Fiona using the double lanes to weave in and out of the stalled traffic. Her iPhone was plugged into the stereo, _Nightfall in Middle-Earth_ blasting from the enhanced sound system. The heavy metal echoed around in the emptiness of my brain as I turned to check on Sean and Thranduil, seated once more in the bed of the Sierra. Beside me sat Maedhros, his knee sore after being popped back into place before we left, his face pressed close to the window and away from me. Helen sat on the other side of me, and kept leaning forward over her purse to look at him around the backpack in my lap. It was pretty squished back there. Erin was in the passenger seat, berating Fiona's driving technique.

"You really almost clipped that guy's fender."

"I did not."

Erin shoved her hands against the dashboard as Fiona switched lanes again, scooting into a space barely wide enough to fit us. "You're driving like a crazy person."

"Can't help it." Fiona bit her lips briefly as she swerved into the empty on-coming lane and back, a move that allowed us to pass two more crawling vehicles and sent Helen careening into my lap, purse and all. "Blind Guardian always makes me drive like this."

"Then turn it off."

Slowly—but not as slowly as the other cars—we made our way into the intersection and through the snarl of traffic to the Omni Foods parking lot. We parked outside the supermarket, and everyone crawled shakily out of the truck and onto the unyielding reliability of asphalt.

Across the street, the police had cordoned off a section of parking lot in front of the comic shop and laundromat, with the cop cruisers parked in a rough circle around the two caped figures. The blonde one appeared to be explaining something to the officers, crimson cape fluttering as he leaned forward earnestly; the dark one hung back, observing.

"How are we going to get in there?" Sean asked.

"No problem." Helen adjusted the strap of her purse and pulled her hair back into that style people call a 'messy bun'. "Follow me."

We threaded our way through the gridlock, guiding the puzzled elves carefully around cars that would occasionally jump forward without warning. We finally made it across, fortunately with all of us still intact. As soon as we hit the sidewalk, Helen turned to us with a sort-of-but-not-really-serious face.

"Okay." She fished a notepad and pencil out of her purse. "We are from _The Citizen_—" this being the local paper for our county— "Getting a story on this event that has happened on our doorstep." She pulled out a camera and handed it to the already blushing Erin. "Hide behind this. I'll ask questions and take notes." She slid a pair of sunglasses over her eyes. "The rest of you… look busy."

I slung my backpack off of my shoulders and dug through it, producing another notepad, a couple of pens, and an iPod that I figured could be passed off as a recording device. Fiona already had her phone out, so I gave the iPod to Sean.

"Drop it—and I weep," I warned him. "Hysterically."

We descended on the unfortunate police crew and their strange detainees. The fair one remained engrossed in his discussion with the policemen, none of whom noticed us at all. They stood about with their arms crossed, listening intently, managing to look intimidating and yet still be intimidated. Only the blonde giant's slender, green-clad companion noticed as Helen went straight for the police chief.

"Ahem."

The gentle noise was almost lost amid the other sounds, but all talk ceased as the chief turned to my cousin, his expression that of preoccupied impatience. "Yes?"

Helen was all business. "Excuse me, Sheriff, but I'm Lela Abernathy from _The Citizen_," she extended her hand, and he took it reflexively, "and I'd like to interview your men and these two visitors."

The chief shook his head. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but we are going to have you wait until we're done with our own investigation."

Helen opened her mouth to contest the matter, but at that point, the dark-haired man leaned out from behind his companion and spoke. "That's all right." He smiled at Helen—a quiet smile, slightly wintry, but nevertheless engaging—and stepped out from the blonde fellow's shadow. "I'll be glad to tell her whatever she wants to know." He turned to the chief with an air of deference, his expression suddenly serious. "That is, of course, if you can spare me."

The chief sighed. "Your friend here is being very helpful," he said finally, indicating the tall blonde man. "You can talk with them—what do I care?" And with a snort, he turned back to the other stranger.

As the green-caped man moved toward us, his tall companion leaned over and said in his ear, "Don't cause trouble." The slight man just grinned and went to stand in front of Helen.

"How can I help you?"

Would the man ever stop smiling his frosty smile? We maneuvered him away from the cops, who were fortunately once more absorbed in the conversation. A snippet of it floated after us, the blonde man insisting, "I am assigned to protect this realm…" in his deep, resonant baritone. Helen pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head. "Hi. We aren't from the paper." She eyed him uncertainly. "Where are _you_ from?"

The smiling man let his gaze pass over our rag-tag group, and I could feel the weight of our stares pressing back. All through this, everyone but Helen had remained silent, even the hot-tempered Thranduil; I had a feeling that was about to change.

"Ah." Our guest seemed to bounce a little; I think he was laughing. It was getting so that I wanted to wipe that stupid smirk off his face—at least, I think I wanted to. "But you haven't told me where you are really from, only that you are _not_ from 'the paper'. So," he folded his hands and took a seat on the hood of a cruiser. "Enlighten me."

The intensity of our collective fury should have melted him on the spot; as it was, he seemed even more cocky and annoying than before. Finally Erin, once again level-headed in the face of adversity, said, "Most of us are from around here. I'm Erin, and this is my sister Zoey, brother Sean, and cousin Helen; this is Zoey's friend, Fiona" – Fiona nodded, busy videotaping the conversation on her phone. "And these two…" Erin waved half-heartedly at the glaring elves, "are from somewhere else."

"They're elves," Sean said helpfully.

"Elves?" At last the stupid grin was gone, replaced by a look of curious interest. "From Alfheim? How is it you came here?"

"We are from Middle-Earth," Thranduil retorted. "Perhaps you know it as Arda."

"And we do not know how we came here," Maedhros said evenly, his gravelly voice soft against the murmur of policemen in the background.

"Middle-Earth!" The impetuous man laughed incredulously. "You mean Midgard? This realm, right here?"

"Well, where exactly are you from?" I demanded.

"The noble realm of Asgard." He grinned. "I am Loki."

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**Abbyforth: Hi guys! Thanks for the reviews, follows and favorites! This chapter is the reason this story is under crossover. I hope you enjoy the introduction of our favorite Norse bros!**

**GoldenEagle13: I really, really did have final exams, guys. It was tragic. I'm sorry. On a happier note: Congratulations to Raurenkili for writing the thirteenth review! You win lychee candy and sparkles! :D Thank you to everyone for all the feedback and support :)**


	11. Dull Surprise

**Ancalagon the Black (entering majestically, he curves his elegant neck to look behind): Oh, seriously... It's not all that bad as you're making it out to be. Now stop trying to hide behind my tail; you keep treading on it.**

**GoldenEagle13 (squeaking pathetically): No! If I go out there, I'll die! They have flame-throwers, and marshmallows, and... and...**

**Ancalagon (regal eyeroll): Eagle would like to apologise for the lateness of the update. She had a week-long adventure that put her a bit behind schedule - **

**Eagle (peeking out): And Chemistry! Don't forget, I still have classes this quarter! (ducks, voice becoming muffled) So the updating might get spotty, as Abbyforth and I try to find time to write together.**

**Ancalagon (nodding): True. Just be glad you don't have any more Maths for a while.**

**Eagle: Calculus! Sweet Solus Prime... (faints dead away)**

**Ancalagon (mildly startled): Ahem. Anyway, Eagle thought I was both imposing _and_ entertaining, so she brought me along as protection and as an appeasement of sorts, to beg forgiveness of being late. (snorts) Though it does rub me a bit wrong. I _am _the most glorious and powerful dragon ever to exist, after all... (lifts wing, revealing other authoress) Oh, hello, Abbyforth. Have you been there this whole time?**

**Abbyforth (brightly): Yep! Hi guys! Hope you are ready for our longest chapter to date! Pretty crazy stuff happens in it! As always we would like to thank our loyal reviewer, Raurenkili!**

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**Fiona's POV**

That's it. I'm done freaking out about things. If the guy says he's Loki, I'm not gonna argue – I mean, after the day we've been having, what would the point be?

So I took it all at face value. This was Loki, the Jotun fugitive who had apparently grown up in Arizona and just recently surfaced in the public eye, saving the world alongside his adopted brother, Thor. And actually, once I really looked at him, I began to recognize him from the news photographs that Zoey and I had spent many hours giggling over.

Zoey wasn't giggling now, though. In fact, the whole of our little mish-mash company was still glaring at Loki like he'd just crawled out of the sewer, even though I could see that Erin and Helen were starting to see the resemblance as well.

In keeping with the current theme, Helen re-positioned herself at the front of the pack and folded her arms confrontationally. "We've answered your question," she reminded the smirking Jotun. "Now you have to answer ours. What are you doing here?"

"Feisty, aren't we?" Loki was grinning again, not at all concerned by the dangerous light in Helen's blue eyes. She growled under her breath, and he laughed – a soft sort of snorting chuckle. "My brother Thor and I are traveling the Nine Realms, keeping an eye on the Convergence and making sure things stay where they belong. We were supposed to be in Vanaheim at this time, but, ah…" he shrugged unapologetically. "I suppose I might have taken a wrong turning somewhere."

"Speaking of things being where they don't belong," Erin cut in, "These two people need to get back to wherever they came from." And she jerked a thumb at the poor, misplaced elves.

Loki frowned slightly, but the expression only served to amplify the angelic shape of his features. "You say you are not from Alfheim, but Midgard?" he asked, turning to Maedhros, who seemed to currently be the less hostile of the two.

"Yes, that's what _I_ said," Thranduil corrected him haughtily. "What of it?"

"Is there any way you can help us?" Maedhros asked, with more humility than I honestly would have expected of him.

Loki chose not to respond to Thranduil's ire, and instead directed his gaze over to the majestic form of his older brother. "I don't know if I can help you. You see, I'm not entirely sure of the nature of your problem. However…" He trailed off as he turned and made his way back to Thor's side.

"What a jerk," Zoey griped.

Helen shrugged and made a soft, non-committal sound. "Yeah. But it's not like he's made anything worse."

"He's made Zoey's mood worse," Sean quipped, and got a punch in the shoulder for it.

We watched quietly as Loki pried Thor away from the cops and began talking in an earnest rush of words. Every so often, the taller brother would dart his gaze in our direction, his expression troubled.

I leaned over and put my lips near Erin's ear. "This doesn't look good," I murmured.

"Tell me about it." She shifted her weight, her shoulder bumping against Zoey's. "Everything just keeps getting weirder, and I honestly have no answers for any of it." And she sighed heavily.

"I'm sorry." It felt funny to apologize for something that wasn't really anybody's fault; but at the same time, it seemed necessary. At any rate, Erin seemed to relax a little, her shoulders dropping slightly from their defensive raised position. "It's okay, though, the not having answers bit. Nobody knows what to do right now. We're just making this up as we go."

"I've never liked playing improv games." But she smiled a little.

We all looked up again as the two brothers entered our messy little huddle. Thor nodded to us, but only Maedhros and Sean nodded back. "Loki says that two of you have been… misplaced."

Erin sighed, probably tired of explaining the pair of unfortunates in the group, and jerked her thumb at them. "Those two say they're elves."

"So I gathered." Thor's blue eyes shone merrily as he looked over at the two very tall figures. He turned back to Erin, probably considering her to be the one in charge. "How did they come to be in this realm?"

Erin turned a hilarious shade of red, embarrassed to have accidentally drawn attention to herself in her haste to get rid of Maedhros and Thranduil. She had never been good with strange people, and the only reason she had put up with the elves was because she had been treating them like delusional basket-cases, and Loki was no problem because he was annoying. Thor, however, was a completely rational, civil, pleasant person; and so Erin was utterly flummoxed, poor thing.

Zoey, a social butterfly by nature and really quite good with people that weren't intentionally trying to annoy her, swooped in and gracefully rescued her more reserved sister from certain mortification. "We found them in our backyard, buried in a pile of tree limbs, roots, dirt, and leaf litter. I don't know how they got there—"

"We fell."

I was beginning to notice that Maedhros's voice had the odd effect of drawing every eye to him whenever he spoke. As always, everyone turned at the sound of his soft words. Unlike Erin, the sudden and complete attention didn't fluster him; he stood quietly with his arms crossed, eyebrows drawn together in a pensive frown.

"I was in the Greenwood, tracking a party of orcs, when I heard someone singing. I looked up to see him—" he gestured to Thranduil— "In an oak tree. I was about to call up to him when the ground gave way, and we fell from a great height with the tree all around us. Then the earth rose up to meet us and there was nothing more to remember."

I tilted my head at Thranduil. "That's how it happened?"

He nodded grudgingly, obviously less than thrilled at having to agree with the eldest son of Feanor. "Very unpleasant."

Thor's noble visage had grown solemn as he listened to the elves' words. "I see." He turned to Loki. "It sounds like a symptom of the Convergence."

Zoey moved forward, her mouth open, but Maedhros beat her to the question. "If I may," he cut in, still displaying a level of politeness I had never expected of him, "What is this Convergence? You have spoken of it twice now, but I have never heard of it before."

Zoey fixed him with a slightly creeped-out stare and shut her mouth with a snap.

Thor frowned and looked to Loki. "Father explained more thoroughly it to you."

"Only because you have the attention span of Fafnir," Loki smirked. He directed his focus away from his golden brother and turned to our band of misfits. "Well," he began, assuming an air of knowledgeable authority, "The Convergence is a rare event in which the Nine Realms align, causing rifts in the fabric of reality. This means that… odd things can happen," he added, slanting his gaze at the elves. "Holes form between the worlds, allowing things – and people – to slip through. Never fear, though; the worst of it only lasts about a day."

Zoey stepped forward, eyes darting desperately towards Maedhros. "Could-it-also-possibly-cause-temporal-disturbances-in-the-form-of-rips-in-the-space/time-continuum?" she gasped, the words spilling out in a wild tumble. "I mean," she continued, in somewhat calmer tones, "Could things from other times – like, from the past or the future – "

Sean tilted his head curiously. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

She nodded earnestly.

You could see the wheels turning behind Erin's eyes also as she latched onto the first logical explanation to be proposed all day. "You mean, Thranduil and Maedhros – and Gandalf and Galadriel and Sauron, and the rest – are all _historical figures_?"

Thor's face brightened. "You have read Tolkien's works, too?"

Helen muttered something about "nerds" and shifted her stance towards an exasperated-looking Loki.

"What if the books are actually more like the epic sagas and eddas?" Zoey continued, eyeing Thor approvingly. "It's possible Tolkien knew something we didn't."

"What?" I finally choked out. "Are you serious?"

"Books?" Thranduil blurted at the same time. "There are books about us?"

"Yes," Sean answered neatly, addressing both of us.

"They are most excellent." Thor gestured enthusiastically as he spoke. "Epic tales of bravery and daring deeds, beautiful love stories and tragic acts of betrayal…" He frowned suddenly. "It has been a while since I read those books, though. I seem to be having a hard time remembering…" He trailed off pensively.

As the resident Tolkien über-nerd, I opened my mouth to fill him in on all the relevant _Lord of the Rings_-related details; but as I did, I suddenly had the cold, empty sensation of someone who has misplaced something important. Try as I might, I could not recall the specifics – or even the general plot – of that beloved trilogy. Even the events of _The Silmarillion_ were growing hazy, up to a point: The founding of Gondolin and everything before was still fairly clear.

"This is beside the point." Thranduil crossed his arms huffily. "You said this "Convergence" only lasts about a day. Already we have used half of that time in useless yammering, if you tell days in the same way we do."

Helen turned on him. "Would you maybe quit being such a pompous jerk?"

Thranduil snorted. "I beg your pardon?"

They continued to bicker as Loki cast one last disdainful look in Thranduil's direction before taking Thor's arm and pulling him slightly away from us. Their heads inclined toward each other conspiratorially and the two brothers began to murmur in a language that certainly wasn't English and probably wasn't Quenya or Sindarin either. Loki seemed to be pushing a point, while Thor quietly and heatedly continued to refuse it. Erin rolled her eyes and hid her face in Zoey's shoulder, while Sean and Maedhros stood next to each other, trying to look stoic in the face of needless irritation as Helen and Thranduil really got into it.

At last, Thor and Loki returned to the mess that was our little convoy, Thor looking annoyed and defiant, and his younger brother the picture of smug triumph. Thranduil and Helen broke off their sniping as Thor cleared his throat. "Loki has _convinced_ me," he growled, shooting a look at the grinning Jotun, "That we should use the Bifrost to bring the two of you home." He nodded briefly to the elves, his right hand clenching and tapping as if missing a familiar weight.

"Really? The Bifrost?" Zoey perked up somewhat. "Cool! I read the article on it in _Scientific American_! Is it true that it's basically an Einstein-Rosen bridge?"

Thor gave her an odd look, his lips parting as if he might say something, before frowning and giving a soft, short huff. "Yes. Maybe. Does it matter?"

Loki nudged him. "Quit stalling."

"I am not – It is she who is stalling!" Thor protested.

"Good grief, would it trouble you too much to summon Heimdall while the mortals are still living?" Loki griped.

Thor threw up his hands in exasperation. "Fine. If you would all please stand close together while we get this sorted," he asked us, with a hint of irritation in his voice.

With more than a few awkward glances, we clumped together in a ragged huddle, Thranduil and Helen still trading glares. Thor and Loki went to stand on either side of us, looking a little stiff and embarrassed by the sudden formality. Again, the golden Asgardian cleared his throat and called out loudly, "Heimdall, open the Bifrost!"

As a bolt of brilliant light shot down from the heavens, Erin had only a moment to interject, "Wait – not all of us!" before the Bifrost engulfed our little party and the whole world was rainbow-rainbow-rainbow and the Earth let us go.

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**GoldenEagle13: Hey, I'm conscious again. Really quickly, I would like to say that (as you may have noticed) Thor and Loki's backstory is rather... AU. Abbyforth and I are currently working on the story for that, and may have a first chapter for it posted soon. I hope. You know me, after all...**


	12. Infinity

**Abbyforth: Hey everyone! Thanks for sticking with us so far! This chapter is intense but also has something I'm sure everyone has been waiting for!**

**GoldenEagle13: Thanks to Mawenn35 for the follow, and Raurenkili for her faithful reviews :) I'm sure you're all dying of excitement, so on with the chapter!**

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**Zoey's POV**

Light… everything was made of light. There were thousands of stars and galaxies and nebulae streaking past behind a curtain of golden brilliance. I had a fistful of Sean's shirt balled up in one hand, Erin's arm curling so tightly around my waist that I couldn't breathe – or perhaps I wasn't supposed to breathe. Was that something people did? I couldn't remember. There was nothing but the incredible brightness of traveling inside the Bifrost; this was the way it was and the way it had been and the way it always would be.

And then I opened my eyes.

We were in a large, domed space. Delicate filigree arced over the continuous curve of the wall and ceiling, reflecting the sharp rainbow light of the Bifrost back at us in twinkling shards of amber fire. Even as the shimmering Bridge dimmed and receded, the glow remained, encouraged by icy starlight and the soft illumination coming from a large, round dais in the middle of the circular room.

Slowly I became aware of Sean desperately trying to pry his shirt from my grip; I let him go suddenly, and he stumbled backward with a bit of a glower. And then Erin was there, no longer squeezing me to death but instead patting us down and showering us with questions as to the state of our well-being and tangibility, to the point that Helen had to bat her ministrations away with a bit more irritability than was warranted. Fiona giggled at that, even though she, too, had been ducking Erin's fretful hands not a moment before.

It was the short bark of unfamiliar laughter that brought us back to the situation at hand.

A tall man with hair the color of the stars outside the Bifrost was grinning at us. Beside him stood another, the fierceness of his pewter gaze tempered by the gentle expression of longing on his face as he watched us. Off to the side stood two more, one dark and one fair, their similar stances and countenances marking them as brothers.

Without thought, the five of us huddled together, confronted by four strangers much bigger and seemingly far older than we were. The laughing man tilted his head, and I felt like I knew him from somewhere. What was his name? A sensation of something green, something alive…

"Feeling all right, mortals?" he asked.

Thranduil. His name was Thranduil. And he was an elf.

The events of the day came flooding back, and our little group stiffened in unison. As we stared, the flame-haired elf (oh, _Maedhros_; that was right – he'd been in my head, yay) shot his fair companion a look that was both a question and a warning.

"Have you never had siblings?"

Thranduil turned to him blankly. "No."

The brothers – Thor and Loki – stared at him with what could only be described as pity, but Maedhros simply nodded. "That explains a great deal about you."

The Prince of the Greenwood's strangled retort was cut off by the shimmering sound of a sword being drawn. From the dome's entrance, there came a voice like the ocean echoing out of the dark pools between the stars. "Well, my princes; it seems you bring us unexpected visitors once again." All of us – elves, humans, and Asgardian princes – turned toward the speaker.

A tall man, clad in golden armor and leaning on a very long sword, stood in the archway, a slight smile playing across his features. He was framed with stars; the light of them caught on the curving horns of his helmet and shone from his amber eyes. As we gaped, he hefted the sword and, with a briskness that belied his imposing stature, quickly strode over to where Thor and Loki waited, the two of them looking only a bit less apprehensive than the rest of us.

"And what, may I ask, where you hoping to achieve by riding the Bifrost in the middle of a cosmic event of legendary proportions?" he continued in a chastising tone. "Without my knowledge or my protection," he added, and his expression grew less teasing and more severe. "I hope you realise that you could have endured far worse than taking an unplanned detour to Midgard."

All the while the stranger had been talking, the two brothers' heads had dipped lower and lower, their faces clearly showing their embarrassment and shame. As he finished, Thor swallowed and said quietly, "We apologise, Heimdall. Father asked us to oversee the Convergence, and I thought we might use the Bifrost to reach Vanaheim."

"You can't take all the blame," Loki protested. "I said I knew how to open the Bifrost and get us to Vanaheim, and I was the one to work the controls."

"Then we are both guilty," Thor agreed, looking up at the man called Heimdall with a little shrug and an expression that asked, 'what can I say?' "That is why we asked you to bring us back, instead of attempting to return by ourselves."

"A wise decision," Heimdall said sagely, and Loki's stifled snort of laughter bounced lightly around the curving walls. The tall man chose to ignore it. "And who are your guests?"

To their credit, the elves didn't even blink as Heimdall let his gaze sweep over them. Maedhros even had the courage to take a half-step forward. "I am Maedhros," he said politely, "And this is Thranduil."

"Prince of the Greenwood," the fair elf added.

Fiona's soft, confused "Huh?" attracted the golden giant's attention, and the five of us pressed closer together as his amber eyes fell on our pathetic huddle. Sean and Erin moved to the front with determined expressions, and Heimdall's face softened.

"So young," he rumbled gently, and with three long strides he was standing in front of us. "You are far from home, little ones. What has brought you to my doorstep, and why is it that you travel with such strange companions?"

"We didn't mean to come here, sir," Sean said, his serious tone befitting the gravity of the situation. "We found these two elves in our – ehm – backyard, and were trying to get them back to wherever they belonged."

"We've come along accidentally," Erin added drily, and I hid my smile in Helen's shoulder.

Heimdall let his gaze linger on us a moment before returning it to the two elves. "I saw you fall," he said quietly, "But I did not see from where. It was as if you suddenly appeared in the sky above Midgard, and that is not possible. Something cannot come from Nothing now that Time and Space and Matter have been ordained, even as Something cannot become Nothing until the proper time has come and the Universe breathes its last."

"The Law of Conservation of Mass," I mused.

"And the Book of Revelations," Sean muttered.

"What are you whispering about?" Fiona demanded softly.

Helen shushed us. "Later."

Erin, surprisingly enough, had kept a handle on the conversation. "We think… maybe they came from a different time. Like the past – Midgard's past," she amended, uncomfortable with the foreign term.

As Heimdall considered her thoughtfully, Loki spoke up from his brother's side. "We, too, find this to be the most likely explanation, Gatekeeper."

"I see." Heimdall pondered a moment longer. "If this is true, there is a way for me to make certain." He turned away and walked past us. Our little party of five swiveled in unison, and we saw the outer entrance to the Bifrost for the first time.

Outside were the stars, endless shivering curtains of them, clear and present against the liquid black of the Universe. Heimdall stared into these infinite depths, and we stared with him – although I had the impression that he was seeing far more than we were. Thor and Loki drifted over to stand behind us, as did Maedhros and Thranduil, and for a long while we all stood entranced at the doorway looking out onto the dance of the heavens.

At long last, Heimdall stepped back from the edge and turned to us with a soft rustle of armor. His face was set in chiseled lines of polished mahogany as he swept us all with eyes that had plumbed the furthest recesses of the stars, and when he spoke, his voice was grim.

"It is as you say." Wisdom told us not to breathe a sigh of relief, and our reservations were confirmed as the Gatekeeper continued. "All the proof I have of this is the sight of the fabric of Space and Time unraveling before my very eyes, and that is proof enough. There is no time to speak with Odin, even now; you must go back to where and when you belong, and with all haste." These last words were spoken to the elves alone.

"Do you know where and when that is, though?" Helen asked, but her usual confrontational attitude was tempered into something more like respectful concern.

"I will follow the threads of Time back to where they have been torn," Heimdall reassured her. "And now I have something difficult to ask of all of you."

"Oh, boy, here it comes," Sean muttered.

Heimdall's golden eyes shone with an odd sort of fond pity. "This is a grievous wound to the tapestry of the Universe, especially during this time of Convergence. I am asking you, dear young ones, to help repair it."

"By… going back in time?" Fiona asked hesitantly.

"By returning with these Eldar and righting the wrongs that have sprung from their absence," he said.

"So, going back in time." Erin crossed her arms angrily, and the expression on her face was the same as the one she had worn in Aunt Lela's living room as she had slapped Maedhros's hand away from her face. "No."

Heimdall smiled at her gently, and I could _see_ her hackles rise. _Wrong move, sir._

"No!" she cried, louder this time. "I have a little brother – we have families. People that love us. And they are waiting for us to come back. Already we've been gone too long, and I am not spending untold ages letting Mikey grow up without me just to play babysitter for those two – two –" She broke off, words devolving into unintelligible snarls. "NO," she finally choked out, and pulled Sean and I close.

We didn't protest.

Heimdall moved close and knelt in front of her; even with his considerable height, he now had to look up to meet her gaze. "I would not ask that of you, my lady," he replied, and the sorrow in his voice was tangible. "You take care of the sick and injured; I know this. When someone's mind or body is severely damaged, do you not put them in a false sleep, to keep them quiet and let them rest as they heal? So will I hold the river of time in a false sleep while you heal its wounds; this gift has been granted me, and I will use it." He stood, and when he placed a hand on my sister's shoulder, she didn't try to remove it. "You will return but a few minutes after you left; just as you were, except for your memories." Their eyes met. "Is this acceptable?"

For a long while, nothing moved inside the golden dome. After what seemed like an eternity, Erin blinked the tears from her eyes and nodded. "Thank you."

"Then come." Once more Heimdall was a flash of graceful movement and controlled haste as he ushered us to stand in the outer doorway before moving to the round dais. "I will send you back to the time and place of these two travelers. And you will go with them, my princes," he added, looking to the swiftly retreating brothers, "To make sure they are safe in their journey. After they have arrived well and whole in Midgard's past, you may return and continue looking after the Convergence."

Thor and Loki traded glances, but took their places among us, nonetheless. "After all, what could go wrong?" Thor attempted lightly.

"I wish you wouldn't say things like that," Loki sighed.

"Farewell travelers, princes –" Heimdall's gaze came to rest on our sad huddle of mortals – "Little ones. Remember that you have a healer, a warrior, a shield, a queen, and a keeper of truth among you." And with a bright ring of steel on silver, he plunged the sword down into the slot at the centre of the dais.

Light… everything was made of light.

Only it was different this time. The stars behind the veil brightened and sharpened, the nebulae condensing into nests of suns and novas. The blackness of space darkened and deepened as the spreading dust and gas of millennia cleared away, and the smooth, straight shaft of the Bifrost seemed to twist and curve as we rode it nearer and nearer to the rend in Time and Space.

With a clap of thunder and a flash of lightning, the Rainbow Bridge deposited us on the warm soil of an unrecognizable yet completely familiar world. I took a deep breath of the grass that was tickling its way up my nostrils before shoving Fiona off my legs and hauling myself into a sitting position –

Only to almost have my left eye put out by the tip of a very long, sharp sword. A quick, frightened glance about revealed six nearly identical blades pointed down at us, trapping our little party in a circle of steel. I felt the others freeze behind me as each suddenly became aware of the situation. I turned back to the sword tip hovering between my eyes and let my gaze travel up the length of the bright blade, following the arm up to the shoulder until I found a very tanned face framed by hair the color of rich, red honey. Grey eyes flashed with dangerous fire as he glared down at me.

"Who are you," he hissed in a language I didn't know, yet still understood, "And _what_ have you done with our brother?"


End file.
